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Topic: The Best in Brest (Read 1325 times)

"Can the service here get any worse? We've been waiting for our food for nearly half an hour!"

"That's just how it is here, besides you were the one who chose this place to eat, Ivonka," Alexander snickered, his mouth curling into a smile as his partner glared silently at him, before smiling too.

"Whatever," Ivonka replied, "We can talk longer this way - father always disliked talking while eating. So, you were saying that our request to meet with the Prime Minister was granted?"

Alexander nodded, taking a sip from his coffee before continuing, "Yes - Vilgem and Mikalay have already gone to Lviv to meet with the Prime Minister and the others. Both have said that there are many sympathetic ears in Lviv, especially among the Prime Minister's government."

Ivonka nodded, silently digesting the news. She couldn't believe how close they were now - years had passed since this plan was set in motion, she hadn't even joined the Party then. Now it was closer than ever before.

"And does everyone on the Council agree with this course of action?" she asked, "It'll be a tough sell to the diehards - joining Galicia is very different from independence. I'm not 100% sold but it's the best choice we have."

Alexander was quiet for a moment - Ivonka was right. It was not the same as independence but the Council needed to realise that this was their only option. Galicia-Volhynia was nowhere near as bad as Russia - only a fool, a bind fool even, would ever suggest that, but joining the Republic instead of creating a new one would not go over too well. He'd have to wait until Vilgem and the others returned from Lviv to make their report at the next meeting. That would be later this week, he mused, there'd be one more vote and then it'd be over to the Prime Minister.

To be honest, the reactions of his fellow council members were not the biggest problem he, Ivonka, Vilgem, and the others had. It was the guys in Minsk. The big shots, the tough guys - they'd not willingly let Brest go, and considering the full extent of the plan (he wasn't sure Vilgem would even mention that in the initial meetings), most of the west and north of Belarus was expected to go - this would be an even bigger problem for the men in charge in Minsk.

"Doesn't matter." He replied flatly, "We know what we have to do. You and I, Vilgem, Mikalay, Mikoła and the others: we have enough votes to win. The Council isn't the problem at all. We'll all support the result even if it's not entirely the one we want. It's when Luka's men in Minsk get wind of this. Hopefully, by then our friends in Lviv will be ready to get to work."

Before Ivonka could reply, she was interrupted by the café's waitress coming over with their orders."Here you sir and madam, please forgive the wait," she said meekly placing the plates down in front of them.

Ivonka smiled again and said, "I'd tell you what I think of those guys but the food's already here and you know how talking during meals gets me!"

"Have you seen the latest UNA reports?" Alexander asked, without really specifying to whom he was speaking, not that it mattered, he knew that everyone present at the Council meeting would have at least gotten wind of what was happening in Lviv. The recent reports from south of the border confirmed that Prime Minister Tymoshenko was at least sympathetic and from what Vilgem and Mikalay had reported, she was also committed to support the Council's plans for unification.

Everyone else at the table nodded. There were five people present including himself and Ivonka - Vilgem and Mikalay in Lviv were the Council's sixth and seventh members; both had already made clear they supported the Council's actions regardless.

"What we are about to do will mean certain war against the central government. I do not know how swiftly Tymoshenko can manoeuvre to support us. We must be prepared," an older man, Uladzimir Dubinsky, said gravely, "We must know clearly the sacrifices we are called to make."

Alexander nodded in reply, "No one denies that we will suffer for our choice, but it is the right choice Uladzimir." Alexander was formal in reply out of respect for his compatriot. Everyone knew that he had served for many years in the army before joining the group. Uladzimir's loyalty was unquestionable - Alexander felt securer knowing he was with them. Uladzimir was however the most stubborn of the Council members and for the longest time, Ivonka and he tried to sway Uladzimir but it wasn't until Vilgem replied that the old solider agreed. Something about Vilgem reminded him of his son, a son of whom he rarely spoke but clearly loved and admired.

"How many districts support us, or at least will not oppose us?" another member, Isadore asked.

"At least half - the rest have not given a clear answer. Only Baranavichy has outright refused," Ivonka replied, "It's promising."

Isadore nodded and turned to Uladzimir, "Then you must be in charge of making sure Baranavichy supports us once we announce our plans. Take the most loyal men you can and make sure Baranavichy complies."

Alexander motioned for quiet and the rest of council members turned to face him. "We will announce as soon as we can. Until then, make sure responses are coordinated with district heads, and that ballots are made available. The result must be overwhelmingly in support - I'm talking about Luka levels," he laughed at the obvious irony, "No-one can doubt the response. The Free Republic of Brest will live and die in glory!"

It had been a boring week in Dubrovytsia for the men of the Thirtieth Guards Armoured Division; they had been ordered to move north up from their garrison in Volyn to the border town of Dubrovytsia a week or so ago and although Volyn was not as exciting as Lviv or the southern cities, this tiny town on the northern border with Belarus was even more dull. The men spent their time resting or training at the barracks they'd set up; others would go into to town (though the word town was stretching it - less than 10,000 people called this place home) to either play football with the local boys or flirt with the local girls.

Today had started out like any other day: the armour that made up the armoured division was maintained, cleaned, and made presentable; soldiers drilled in the early morning sun and ate heartily at breakfast. In the officers' mess, Colonel Ihor Dovhan joked with his officers and men. The calming monotony of Dubrovytsia however was soon broken when Colonel Dovhan received an urgent telephone call - the shrill sound of the phone shattered the calm morning and the other officers instantly looked alert.

"This is Colonel Dovhan, sir!" He replied, picking up the phone. A series of commands followed, the Colonel only replied yes or yes sir; he hung up.

"Let's move, let's move!" He shouted; the other officers sprung into action and relayed the order to get ready through the camp. Soon the whole division was up and ready - the engines on the trucks and tanks running, exhaust fumes filling the summer air. Colonel Dovhan gathered the other officers in front of a hastily arranged table and map of the Brest Region.

"We've got orders to head to Brest - orders from the Prime Minister herself. The President has also confirmed this," he explained to a group of now-rather-confused officers.

"We head straight to Brest - other units have other targets but that is all I know. No insignia on uniforms or on vehicles. Keep silent until in Brest or an emergency. No engagement with any local forces. Do not engage unless ordered to by myself."

The other officers briefly made some notes but there was little in the way of dissent. That wasn't the army way.

"Questions?"

Silence.

"Good - we leave camp in 45 minutes," the colonel ordered and with that, he turned and left.

***

45 minutes later, the Thirtieth Guards Armoured Division left the sleepy town of Dubrovytsia and headed north-northwest towards Brest, the border crossing already abandoned, the road ahead clear and quiet.

It had been a long drive up from Ternopil to Baranovichi in the northeast of the Brest Region, driving day and night the 12th Guards Motorised Infantry Division had arrived at the city early in the morning about 07:30. The city police did not resist as the heavy trucks pulled up in front of the city hall, the university's main building, and outside the railway yard. This was expected by Colonel Golovin: the police chief had himself informed the Colonel of the situation in Brest and had personally escorted him to the city hall where oblast administrator, Mihail Averyn was detained.

Colonel Golovin and the 1st Battalion had now gone south of the city to the large airforce base, which was a key target to seize lest it be a focus of armed resistance. The airbase was home to the 61st Fighter Group and its aircraft - if they could be taken intact, it would be a major boon to the operations in the Baranovichi Raion.

As expected, the main entrance was locked and heavily guarded by Internal Troops and airforce personnel. Golovin and the battalion's commanding officers had established a perimeter about 4 kilometres away from the main entrance, while the 1st Battalion's main force would strike against the entrance supported by light artillery. No warning was given as a burst of heavy gunfire from machine guns and light anti-tank rockets impacted the guard station at the gate. An explosion. A return of gunfire. Continued blasts. Under machine gun cover, the first wave of three BTR APCs advanced on the entrance, their own mounted guns ablaze.

The airbase's own soldiers were not taken by surprise entirely, but underestimated the firepower the Guards Division - they soon mounted a counterattack but without armoured support, they could not repulse the APCs, now numbering six, as they advanced on the main control tower. Additional soldiers advanced on foot towards the hangars housing MiG-29s. The Belarusian Airforce's own men could not hold out against the continued assault, and quickly fell back towards the rear of the airbase; this left the Internal Troops to bear the brunt of the fighting, at which they performed well. They fought bravely against the advancing battalion and only against the APCs' concentrated cannon and machine guns did they need to withdraw.

Colonel Golovin approached the airbase escorted by a company of five men; the battalion's commander was directing fire from the first APC to enter the airbase. He was pleased with what he saw: casualties were minimal and the opposing Belarusians were almost driven back."Try to send a message to the airbase's commander: I will accept his surrender along with all material and he and the rest of the men will be unarmed," he said to one of his escorts who hurried off to find a radio operator.

The offer to end fighting came just in time for the airbase's commander: the six APCs had now dispatched their passengers, who were advancing up the control tower. 15 minutes after the fighting began, the airbase surrendered along with its full complement of MiG fighters.